


Starving

by Obsessivecompulsivereadr



Series: Fluffy Holiday Sterek Because I Have No Better Title For This Series [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Future Fic, Getting Together, Kind of fluffy, M/M, New Year's Eve, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessivecompulsivereadr/pseuds/Obsessivecompulsivereadr
Summary: Derek hates clubs.He rubs a hand roughly across his beard and scratches at his chin before he takes a sip of beer.  Clubs make him antsy, especially on New Year’s Eve.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written an explicit rimming scene in a LONG TIME. So bear with it.

Derek hates clubs.  

He rubs a hand roughly across his beard and scratches at his chin before he takes a sip of beer.  Clubs make him antsy, especially on New Year’s Eve.  Even on an ordinary night, the music is always too loud and the people always too invasive of his personal space.  He gets what he looks like.  He knows he attracts attention, but it’s not exactly something he’s proud of most of the time.  What he could do without is the constant touching without asking him for consent.  And on New Year’s everyone seems more drunk than usual, so they’re more handsy than usual.  

The women in clubs are always beautiful but too bold for his liking.  He’s sure their personalities are fine, and that the women are probably fun and harmless, just out looking to have a good time with their friends.  But he avoids most of them no matter how much they flirt.  Now matter how much they get close.  

He knows it’s unfair to avoid women based on the behaviors of the ones in his past, but Derek also knows that fortune does not fancy him.  He he has too much experience with the manipulative ones.  The crazy ones.  The ones who want to ruin lives.  The ones who want to hurt him.  If there is only one woman with nefarious intent in the surrounding area of Derek’s general location, then the chances are very good that she’ll find him, without him having to do a single bit of the work involved.  He’s never had to go looking for the ones who want to kill him.  

But it’s not that he goes looking for men either.  Most of the time.  

The men are always handsome but also too bold for his liking.  At least they are when he’s in this kind of club.  The ones that cater to people who aren’t straight.  

Men in clubs that cater to straight people are usually either looking for women or are men who prefer men but are astute enough not to make a move on someone who could, and likely would, hurt them in a fit of blind retaliation.  He’s never experienced that, but he’s seen it happen and he’s seen too many friends hurt by a straight guy being aggressive and mean because of a fear of being hit on.  Unfortunately, it’s a side effect of regular old homophobia, and it’s something he could do without on a regular basis.

It’s not like Derek even attempts to hit on anybody at all.  He usually doesn’t have to, and he recognizes that as being something that would make other people happy.  But not him.

He has to admit though, that it’s useful for the times when he just wants to get off.  

Which is why he’s here tonight.  Though why his body chose New Year’s Eve night to be even more horny than usual is beyond his understanding.  

Derek looks over at his friends on the dance floor.  He has a small circle of them, and a few of them are people he would consider pack if he were asked to define what the word pack means to him now.  Years ago, it meant biological family.  Now, it’s a bit like the expression families of choice.  People who would be there for him when he needs them but who don’t annoy him too badly when he’s around them.  People who care about him.  And who he also cares about.

He thinks of Cora, who is living in South America and had just gone home after visiting for Thanksgiving and Christmas.  She’s happy.  Married. In a pack that doesn’t include Derek.  But she is also part of Derek’s own pack, however convoluted that works out to be.

Pack is a convoluted concept to begin with.  He still considers Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski pack, even though he hasn’t seen either of them in years.  He doubts that either of them consider _him_ pack, but Derek is okay with that.  He feels guilty when he thinks of Scott and wonders how he’s handling being Alpha of Beacon Hills in the years since Derek’s left.  He thinks Scott understood why he had to leave, but he’ll never be sure.  

When he thinks of Stiles, Derek doesn’t feel guilt.  

Derek presses a hand to his chest and takes another sip of beer.  Stiles shouldn’t still be able to affect him like this.  It’s been too many years. They never even had a chance to be something that would justify the thought of the boy causing a constriction in his chest.

It’s probably the alcohol.  

 _Or that’s just an excuse_ , _because you know alcohol doesn’t affect you like that_ , an errant thought that sounds way too much like Stiles enters his head.

He needs to get out of his head and back into this room, no matter how annoying that might be for him.  If he’s ever going to find someone to take home, he’d better do it now before he gets too annoyed at _everything_.  It’s times like these when Cora’s sarcastic comments about being a real boy remind him of what his personality lacks.  

He finishes off his drink and sets the glass back down on the counter.  He can’t get drunk, so sitting there is pointless.  He’d left his leather jacket back at his apartment, and wore what he usually wore to clubs.  

Which is the same thing he’d wear any other day, now that he thinks about it.  Seriously, it’s no wonder Cora makes fun of him.  He really can’t _human_.  He shakes his head and tries to avoid thinking about the fact that she uses the word as a verb.  

He pushes the sleeves of his henley up further on his forearm and sets off towards the dancefloor.  

If he doesn’t do this now, he’s just going to get irritated and go home.  

 _And jerk off angrily_ , the voice adds.

Derek zig zags through the crowds and gets stopped off and on by men who are very interested.  But most are not his type.  He doesn’t stick to his type normally.  Sex is good with a lot of different people, in a lot of different ways.  But on nights like this, he either wants his type, or he wants to go home.  

 _To jerk off angrily_ , the voice adds again.

And seriously.  He’s not even drunk.  Why is he hallucinating Stiles’s voice?  He hasn’t even heard that voice in years.

He stops at the edge of the dance area and sees someone who is exactly his type.  And the man is flashing the biggest grin Derek has ever seen on Stiles Stilinski.  

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Derek mouths because he knows he’s too far away for Stiles to hear him.  

“What the fuck are _you_ doing here?” Stiles counters, his voice pitched perfectly to carry over the sounds in the club.

And Derek cannot stop himself from heading straight for the man.  Now he understands why he was hearing Stiles’s voice in his head.  His wolf must have picked up on him being here immediately.  When he gets in his head, his instincts lead the way, and he’s stopped fighting it.  Once he figured out that his instincts are smarter than he is, a lot of his problems got solved.  If he’d done that years ago, a lot of the awful things in his life would have never happened.

He weaves his way through everyone separating them, and Stiles’s grin just stays plastered on his face.  Like Derek just being here is the best thing that could have ever happened to him.  

Once he gets to him, Stiles throws an arm around his neck and pulls him close, “God, man.  You look incredible.  It’s so good to see you.”  

Derek breathes in the scent of him, and it has a calming effect on him.  Unlike anything else that has gone on tonight.  It’s like the scent unlocks a relaxation trigger in Derek’s wolf brain.  

“You look good, too, Stiles,” Derek says into his ear.  

And is that ever an understatement.  Stiles has definitely grown into the promise he had as a teen.  He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt that shows off his muscle definition.  His hair is longer, and it has a tousled look from all the dancing he must have been doing all night. His moles are prominent against skin that just glows in the flashing lights.  

Derek is afraid to look down and see how well the boy’s pants might be fitting him.  And the sight of Stiles, combined with his enticing scent, are easily making Derek’s own pants fit a little too well.  

“God damn, Derek,” Stiles looks him up and down, with enough of a hungry smirk to pique Derek’s attention but not enough to make him feel objectified.  

 _Liar.  You just really want to fuck him, so you don’t care_ , the voice adds.  

“God damn, yourself,” Derek pulls him towards the edge of the floor, away from the bigger crowds.  

Derek smirks before dragging him over into a corner near the bathrooms.  

He was not about to drag Stiles into the bathroom, no matter how tempting that idea was at the moment.  He had enough respect for Stiles to not even consider it.  

At least for more than just a few seconds.  

Derek presses him against the wall but gives him enough space to avoid scaring him, “What are you doing in New York?”

“I got into college here,” he smiles.  “I’ve already been here for two years.  It’s hard to look someone up when they never left any forwarding information and know exactly what to do to live off the grid.”

“Well, I’m definitely not off the grid right now.”

“No, you aren’t.”  

It's utterly ridiculous how easily he makes that sound like an innuendo.  Derek raises an eyebrow at him, but Stiles just cackles.  

 _He’s happy_ , the voice adds, with a hint of incredulity.  

“You’re happy,” Derek smiles.  “You are finally out of there and you’re happy.”  

“Yep.  Once I left for college, my dad retired and moved to the East Coast with me.  He’s got a little place upstate.  He ended up marrying Lydia’s mom.  And Lydia is at MIT.”  

“How’s everybody in Beacon Hills?”  

“Okay I guess.  I don’t hear from them much.  Scott went to school in California and his mom ended up getting remarried.”  

“And you came to New York,” Derek adds unnecessarily.  

“Yep.  Columbia.”  

“Congratulations,” Derek knows his eyes are raking up and down the boy, but he can't seem to stop himself.  

 _And he’s not a boy anymore_ , the voice points out.

Stiles looks every bit as sexy as he had the potential to be a long time ago.  He is confident and still just as snarky, and Derek wants to _wreck him_.  

“Thanks.”  

“Have you been drinking?”

“Believe it or not, no.  I don’t do that much anymore.  Also I’m only twenty, and the bartenders here know it.  They wouldn’t let me have any even if I promised them blowjobs as payment.”

Derek feels like growling but then realizes immediately that he’s got no right to do that, “Have you tried that?”  

“Maybe,” Stiles winks at him.  “I’m under their protection here.  They adopted me when I moved here because one of my friends from the Jungle knows them.  She’d kill them if they didn’t take good care of me.”  

“Good, because you need someone to take care you,” Derek smiles.

“How do you know that?  Maybe I’ve learned to protect myself,” Stiles asks with a challenge.  

“You probably have.  But _protecting_ you is not what I had in mind,” Derek adds and watches with satisfaction as Stiles _gets it_.

“So I just had to grow up, is that it?” Stiles laughs.  

“Something like that,” Derek answers.  “You interested?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Stiles tips his head back like he’s making fun of Derek.  Just like he used to do.  “Of course I’m interested.”  

“Then let’s get out of here.”  

 

  
  
After some quick texts to let his friends know where he is, he takes Stiles to his apartment.  Once they’re inside, Stiles’s scent turns sweeter. He’s not scared or upset or anything else that would cause Derek any alarm, but he’s also doesn’t smell like pure arousal.  

He smells like he’s content too.  It’s intoxicating to Derek.

“I’ve been low-key looking for you for two years, big guy.  I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be found, and I didn’t want to attract a lot of attention to you if you didn’t,” Stiles says as Derek pulls him towards the living room.

“I appreciate that,” Derek says as he stops and noses at Stiles’s throat.  “If I’d known you were here, I would have come found you.”  

“Would have sniffed me out, huh?” Stiles says with a grin as he kicks out of his shoes right in the archway between Derek’s short hallway and the main living area.  

“Still with the jokes,” Derek tugs at Stiles’s hand and pulls him closer.  “You’re very lucky I like you.”  

“Yes, I am,” Stiles agrees as he slides his free hand up Derek’s arm.  “So we aren’t even going to talk about anything first?”  

“Do you want to talk first?  Because _I’d_ rather rim you until you cry and then talk about it in the morning,” Derek pulls him into a kiss that smothers the whine that leaves Stiles’s mouth.  

“You can’t just say things like that,” Stiles admonishes as he pulls away.  

“Why not?  I’ve finally learned that it’s important to go for what you want when you have the opportunity to have it.  I finally learned that after all these years.  You think that I don’t apply that new philosophy to sex?”  

“Shit, big guy.  You can apply any philosophy you want to sex,” Stiles tugs his shirt away from his slick skin and pulls it over his head.  

“Just as long as I rim you until you cry?”  

Stiles laughs, “Well, yeah.  I’m very much in favor of that approach.”  

“Then why are you taking so long to get into my bed?” Derek smirks.  

“I’m having an internal crisis here.  You can’t just hand me my high school fantasy on a silver platter and expect me not to have trouble accepting it.”  

“You can have trouble accepting it all you want.  As long as you get naked and I get my hands and mouth on that ass.”  

“Wow, you are super upfront about it, aren’t you?”  Stiles grins.  “You like my ass?”  

“Probably as much as you like mine,” Derek snarks.  

“Way to throw a guy’s sexuality crisis up in his face like that,” Stiles replies as he tugs at Derek’s henley, and Derek watches his frustration for a few moments before helping him take it off.  “I couldn’t help it.  I was sixteen years old and had just figured out that I like guys too.  Then you showed up with your perfect everything and broke my brain.”  

Derek laughs and kisses him as he backs him down the hallway, “Broke your brain, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Yeah, I do.  I could smell you, remember?”  

“Oh my god.  No fair bringing it up.  I can’t help it if you peaked at perfection early and it took me a while to make puberty my bitch.”  

Derek backs him against he wall leading to his bedroom, “You definitely did that,” he whispers into Stiles’s ear.  “But here’s some breaking news for you.  You are exactly my type.  And you always have been.”  

Stiles stares at him, “ _Always_ have been?”  

Derek cups his face with one hand, “You have to know there was no way I was going to touch you back then.  But yeah.  Lanky, snarky, gorgeous mouth, pale skin,” Derek leans in closer and whispers into his ear.  “The hands.  Definitely my type.”  

“You kind of created my type,” Stiles admits quietly.  

“Sorry about that,” Derek pulls back to look into his eyes, “if assholes are your type.”  

Stiles claps him against the temple gently, “I mean gruff, broody, and kind of mean.  But yeah, if you’re going to be rude about it, I figured out a while ago that assholes are very much are my type.”  

“I like assholes, too.  Using both meanings of that sentence.”  

Stiles cracks up again and wraps his arms around Derek, “Please tell me this isn’t a one-and-done kind of thing.  Now that I’ve got you back in my life, I cannot lose you again.”  

Derek smiles at him, “It’s definitely not going to be that.  I’ve missed you.”  

“I’ve missed you too.”  

Derek backs him up to the bed and grins when Stiles falls back onto it.  Stiles grins up at him and sheds his very tight pants with only a little bit of a flailing movement.  He’s very much grown into his limbs and no longer flails like Bambi on slick ice.  It’s a very good look on him.

Derek unbuckles his belt and pulls until they don’t constrict anymore and then crawls towards him.  

Stiles groans and gestures at him, “That’s so unfair, oh my god.”  

Derek smirks, “What’s unfair?”  

“This,” Stiles gestures at his entire body.  “Jesus Christ.”  

“That doesn’t actually answer my question,” Derek replies.  

“Jesus, you’re insanely beautiful.  And you’re looking at me like I’m insanely beautiful.  And I’m not sure I’m going to make it through this without having a heart attack.”  

Derek slides his body over Stiles’s and runs a hand over his hip, “You can’t have a heart attack until I’m done rimming you.  Bedroom rules.”  

Stiles’s head drops to the bed with another groan, “Oh god.  Okay.  Good rule.”  

Derek kisses him and suddenly realizes why he was so uptight and high strung tonight.  He recognizes the scent as the one he caught when he entered the club. His wolf has been pining for that scent all night, and Derek had wasted time in his head at the bar like a dumbass.  

He could have had this hours ago if he’d paid better attention.  

“Stiles, I know you’re overwhelmed right now.  But _can_ I rim you?”  

“Yes,” Stiles whispers, then clears his throat to speak louder.  “I cleaned up earlier.  I also have some supplies on me.  Something you can use as a dam if you want.”  

Derek smiles.  Very few people knew how much work went into preparing for sex, and very few people were comfortable discussing it.  He’d dated a few people who were too embarrassed to even talk about what they needed to do or wanted to do.  Even though he and Stiles both knew that safe sex wasn’t really an issue with werewolves, he was glad Stiles was always safe and prepared.

“Thanks,” Derek says softly.  “I don’t need it if you cleaned up.  But I’ll use it if you want me too.”  

Stiles slides a hand over his shoulder, “I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Good because while I understand the importance of dams and encourage you to use them on a regular basis…” Derek bends his head down slightly and leaves the thought unsaid.

“What?”  Stiles encourages and tugs Derek’s head back up to look at him.  “Finish that sentence.”  

“I really just want to taste you,” Derek admits.  

“Oh god,” Stiles voice sounds strangled.  

“Can you handle that?” Derek pulls at his briefs and slides them down his legs.  

“I’m not sure.  But I am so willing to find out.”  

“So how do you want to do this?” Derek leans back over him for a kiss.  “Do you want to lie on your stomach and let me wreck you?”  

“Derek,” Stiles groans.  “Yes, yes.  Yes please.  I’m very in favor of that.”  

“Good because if you are on your stomach, then this ass,” Derek slides a hand across the ass in question, “will be very easy access for me.”  

“Jesus Christ, I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be very easy access for you in any position you ever want to put me in,” Stiles croaks out.  

“Good to know.  For tomorrow.”  

“Oh my god, what’s tomorrow?” Stiles sounds both excited and slightly terrified.  

“I’ll tell you later,” Derek answers.

“I’m going to survive this, right?”

“You are definitely going to survive this.  You aren’t a virgin right?  I have a hard time believing that this ass,” Derek taps it gently, “hasn’t been fully appreciated before.”  

“Oh it’s been appreciated.  But I have never in my life been able to pull anybody who’s even half as sexy as you are.  I’m having performance anxiety.”  

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t have to perform anything right now.  That’s my job.”  

Derek encourages him to turn over, and Stiles tucks his head into the crook of his elbow.  

“Why do you smell like you’re embarrassed?” Derek asks softly.  

“Because I’m all sweaty and gross,” Stiles answers though his words are slightly muffled.  

“I don’t care about that.”

Stiles turns his head and smiles, “You sure?”  

Derek slides up and kisses him, “Do you have idea how good that smells to werewolves?  How good _you_ smell?”

“Well no.  I’ve wondered but most of the werewolves I’ve known have not been people I can have that discussion with.  I smell gross to Scott, but he says that’s because of the brotherly bond thing.”  

Derek feels smug about that. Well, his wolf feels smug about that, if he’s being more honest with himself.  

“You smell delicious to me,” Derek admits.  

“Did I then?” Stiles sounds fragile, like if Derek answers this wrong, it will break his heart.  

“Yes, you’ve always smelled like that to me.  That’s part of why I was angry all the time.  It’s hard to handle feeling that way with no chance of being able to act on it.”  

Stiles smiles, so Derek feels like he’s done something right.  Said something right.

“Sorry you had a boner for an flailing underage troublemaker whose dad was the sheriff,” Stiles offers.  

“Sorry you had a boner for a grumpy asshole with mental health issues and a sketchy history with law enforcement,” Derek says.  

“It’s no problem.  I handled it with grace and dignity like always,” Stiles laughs.

“Right.  So that’s what that was?”  

“Oh shut up and rim me, asshole,” Stiles snarks.  

“My pleasure.”  

Stiles quiets down when Derek gets a hand on that perfect ass.  He grabs the flavored lube out of his nightstand and shifts Stiles’s legs apart gently.  He dips his fingers into the lube and rubs a little bit over his skin.  He can’t stand the taste of most lubes, but this one is a mild coconut flavor.  He plans on using it sparingly to begin with, but if he were just jerking off, he’d be using the coconut oil he keeps in his bathroom.  Stiles will make fun of him for it later, but Derek has issues with chemical smelling products.  

Stiles moans when Derek brushes a finger over his hole, so Derek does it again just to hear the sound one more time.  His voice is a little deeper than it used to be, and Derek finds himself drawn to it.  Wants to see how many different ways he can get Stiles to moan.

Derek adjusts him so that his cheeks are spread a little further apart, and Stiles moves a little to adjust the position of his cock under him.  

“You must be very hard right now,” Derek whispers teasingly.

“You would be correct,” Stiles groans.  

“Pity my plans are for this ass then, huh?” Derek mocks.  

Stiles turns to glare at him, “I can do this myself you know.”  

“You can _rim yourself_?  That's impressive.”  

“Oh my god, shut up.  You knew what I meant.”  

Derek slaps his ass gently, no where near enough to even leave a red mark.  They never talked about spanking, so Derek isn’t going to take that any further, even if the sexy little moan that Stiles releases tells him that he likes it.  

Derek rearranges himself so that he’s got a front row view of Stiles’s perfect ass, “God you look so good.”  

“Sure I do.”  

Derek runs his tongue along the crease between one globe and Stiles’s thigh and then asks, “Do you really want to start arguing with me right now?”  

“Um, no.  I do not.  My bad.  Carry on.”  

“Thank you,” Derek says before he dives right in.  

In less than thirty seconds, Stiles is writhing on the bed under him.  Derek licks and tongues at his hole, and remembers why rimming is one of his most favorite things.  He loves the way men respond to it.  He loves that Stiles is gripping at the blankets with one hand and shaking under his touch.  He loves the sounds coming from Stiles, the half formed words and the murmurs for him to _please please please_ not stop.  The gasps and breathy little hiccups are so enticing to Derek.  He could spend all night doing this if Stiles would just keep making those sounds.

After what seems like at least ten minutes of eating Stiles out, Derek dips his fingers into the lube again and presses one finger at the edge of his hole.  Derek lifts his head and wipes his mouth before he asks, “Can I finger you too?”  

“Oh my god yes,” Stiles groans.  

Derek smiles and slides his finger over the ring of muscle, pressing gently to test its limits.  He doesn’t want to hurt him, so he won’t use more than one finger unless Stiles asks for more.  He licks across the hole again and he presses his finger to the edge, loosening him up as he goes.  

Stiles is falling apart, and Derek’s wolf feels smug and complacent about it.  Like this is what he’d wanted all along tonight and Derek has finally given in.  

“You taste so good,” Derek says.  

And he does.  It’s another thing Derek likes about rimming, but he is pretty sure that’s a wolf thing.  Scent and taste are so crucial to werewolves, and getting his mouth on Stiles in this very vulnerable area is like catnip to him.  

 _Catnip_ , the voice mocks him.

He can never let Stiles know he thought that or he’ll never live it down.  Derek finally gets Stiles to open up enough to slide one finger inside, so he ducks his head to lick around his own finger.  Stiles presents his ass towards him, pressing it closer to Derek’s mouth.  

God, Stiles loves being rimmed.  They are a match made in heaven as far as Derek is concerned.  

He dives back in and concentrates on making Stiles feel as good as possible.  He raises the man’s ass a little and gestures for Stiles to start jerking himself off.  

“I would do it but my hands are a little occupied right now,” he says as he presses his finger back inside and massages Stiles’s ass with his free hand.

“No, this is good, this is good,” Stiles agrees and loses himself in the feeling again.  

Derek watches him for a moment as he fingers the man.  Stiles is beautiful like this.  His skin is sweaty and flushed, and his moles stand out more when he's like this.  His body is taut and on the edge.  His ass is red where Derek’s beard has been brushing against it, and the sight makes him preen.  Derek is pretty sure Stiles is just beautiful, but the way he responds during sex is like art.  

He’s pretty sure Stiles would make fun of him for that too.  If he said it out loud.  

It’s not long until Stiles is coming and crashing back down on the bed, “Give me a second, and I’ll blow you.”  

“No need,” Derek says before he starts rimming him again while jerking himself off.  

It won’t take long.  It never does when he does this.  He enjoys it too much.  Rimming gets Derek so hard and ready to blow that it never takes more than a minute or two when he actually starts working at his cock.

“Jesus Christ, you’re better than porn,” Stiles breathes out, his head turned to the side.  

Derek smirks up at him when he realizes Stiles has been watching him the entire time.  He strips his cock a couple of more times and then comes all over Stiles’s lower back.  The ropes of his release paint little specks across a patch of moles on his back, and Derek wants to give in and rub it across him.  Ground the scent in so that it never leaves Stiles’s skin.  

Stiles is grinning at him, like he knows exactly what Derek was thinking.  

Derek gives in and slides a hand through the come.  Then he lies prone beside him with his eyes on Stiles’s face, “You okay?”

“I am more than okay,” Stiles reaches a hand out and brushes it over Derek’s forehead to push back the hair plastered to his face.  “Are you okay?”  

“Never better,” Derek sighs.  

“I have never in my life experienced something like that.  I have never seen anybody who enjoys doing that the way you do.”  

“And I’ve never done that to anybody who responds quite as much as you do.”  

“Well, your skill is incredibly leveled up.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I’m boss level?”

“Oh my god, I’m never leaving this apartment,” Stiles laughs.  “You are stuck with me now.”  

“I can make that work,” Derek grins.  “If you give me a few minutes to recuperate, I think I can go again.  We can ring in the New Year with your cock down my throat.  And you know what they say,” Derek winks.

“Whatever you’re doing at midnight is what you’ll be doing all year long.”

  
  


“So what was that thing you said you’d tell me later?” Stiles asks as he catches his breath.  

They watch the clock tick from 11:59 pm to 12:00 am, and Derek licks a stripe up Stiles’s cock at the very moment the time changes.  

Just to make sure.  He wouldn’t want to be wrong about that old wives’ tale.

Derek thinks about the question again and tries to remember what Stiles is talking about.  But by the time he remembers, he’s got Stiles’s cock back in his mouth and really doesn’t want to stop sucking him.  Not when Stiles is making those sounds again.  

“Oh, I was just talking about breakfast,” Derek dismisses as he pulls his mouth off and smiles up at him.

“What’s for breakfast?”  

“Why, _you_ are.”

“Oh my god, I am _not_ going to survive this.”

Derek grins as he gets back to work.  

He’s got an entire new year to look forward to.


End file.
